


Arrival

by princesszaf



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Imagined (?) Voyeurism, M/M, Miscommunication, Oral Sex, Pining, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 02:10:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9945632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesszaf/pseuds/princesszaf
Summary: God, does he feel it.Jaebum’s love isn’t a blanket - it’s a fucking viper, coiling around him and asphyxiating him and this is the best way to fall.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ok so....i wanted to write both markjinson & jjp so? this happened? i wrote it in 2 hours rip and i've made myself rly emo. this is unbetaed!!!!

“Touch me,” Jinyoung whimpers, eyes squeezed shut. “Please, Mark - _Jackson_ , someone -“

It’s easy to let go like this.

“Okay,” and soothing fingers card through his hair, shifting his head against someone’s chest. He registers the voice as Mark’s, the warmth crawling down his abdomen as Jackson’s touch. They’ve got him vulnerable and needy, crying out for more despite the attention.

Jinyoung doesn’t mind. Not with them.

“We’ll take care of our baby,” Jackson breathes against his hips.

Jinyoung manages to open his eyes somehow, finds Jackson crouched over his legs. They look at each other for a long moment, chests heaving, pupils blown out. Jackson’s hands grip his hips fiercely, Mark’s arm snakes around his waist to tug him closer until he’s drowning in their tenderness.

“We will,” Mark murmurs in agreement. He brushes the pad of his thumb against Jinyoung’s nipple, hums approvingly when Jinyoung arches his back at the touch. The distraction allows him to cup Jinyoung’s face and urge their lips together for a languid kiss.

The room’s steamy with arousal. Jinyoung can smell sweat and cologne and sex - it all sits concrete, a reminder that this isn’t imaginary. It’s real - these boys care about him so fucking much, giving him everything he could’ve asked for and he almost doesn’t notice the shadow falling onto the screen of his divider.

Jackson’s mouth is around his cock when he sees it. He’s a moaning, breathless wreck - Mark’s mouth is at his throat now, sucking love into spots, but there’s dim light bleeding into his room from the other side. Heat pools in his gut in recognition - he’ll know the slope of those shoulders anywhere, the breadth of Jaebum’s chest.

The shadow doesn’t budge.

This, _him_ \- Jinyoung’s unsure if it’s real of a hallucination. A fucking metaphor for their relationship if there ever was one - he’d laugh if Jackson wasn’t digging his nails into plush thighs, if Mark wasn’t nipping at his earlobe. There are hands devouring his body that are very decidedly _not_ Jaebum and it’s fucking exhilarating, really, after all these years of pining and _wanting_ and self doubt, to know that _someone_ wants him.

And not just anyone, not just _one_ person. It’s Mark and Jackson, two of the most important people in his life. There’s a sacred sort of love between them - something he could’ve had with Jaebum - and he’s not just some spectator.

They’ve drawn him in, slow and patient, stretching affection towards him.

“We love you,” Mark murmurs sweetly, a kiss to the spot behind Jinyoung’s ear. “We love you so much, Jinyoungie.”

Jackson nods around a mouthful of cock. He takes it in deeper then, nose brushing the thatch of curls at the base. Jinyoung barely hears himself scream, just knows he’s glad the maknaes are out and Jaebum’s…somewhere, fuck, writing morose songs or something - Jaebum wouldn’t care if the noises of pleasure weren’t for him, Jaebum doesn’t fucking care, Jaebum doesn’t seem to love him at all but these two boys do, they _do_ -

Jackson swallows every last drop of his come, milking Jinyoung’s cock for all he’s got. He stays there, panting and exhausted, Jackson’s cheek against his hip and his back against Mark’s chest.

Jinyoung feels Mark’s erection pressing against his ass. He looks between the two boys next to him, watches silently as they just stare at each other, and he notices Jackson slipping a hand between his legs, pressing against his cock.

“I - I need to use the restroom,” Jinyoung splutters, cheeks heated in shame and he shifts to move.

“No,” Jackson turns to look at him now, something powerful in his gaze. Jinyoung doesn’t fidget around anymore, just looks away in embarrassment. “You’re not the third wheel, Jinyoungie, what have we told you?”

“It feels like - fuck, I know, but -“

“Jinyoungie,” Mark tightens his arm around Jinyoung now, holding him secure. Mark croons raspily at him, lips ghosting over tender skin. “Stay. We love you, baby, please stay.”

Jinyoung should protest. It’s definitely the right thing to do, considering he’s just been an imposition for so long, stealing their love.

He looks up. The shadow moves away from the screen then, for whatever reason, and it’s gone. Just like that.

The absence of it is enough for Jinyoung to melt against Mark’s hold.

“Alright.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 Things between him and Jaebum haven’t always been like this.

There were times, years ago, when Jinyoung didn’t have to think twice about wrapping his arms around his hyung’s torso. His lips could press against the back of Jaebum’s neck and it would be an innocent thing, something they could owe to friendship and nothing else. They’ve always been something special, after all, fates so deeply entwined, so it only seemed natural.

He idolised Jaebum. It wasn’t a secret - their entire company knew of it, cooed at Jinyoung for being such a doting dongsaeng, always so willing to do anything for his hyung.

Everything.

He knew Jaebum was destined for greatness. Jinyoung was only honoured to be by his side for it.

It started then -

Gentle fingers tugging his hands away. Fucking impassiveness, a strange sort of distance that Jaebum hadn’t displayed before. It was Jinyoung who’d chuckled about him being chic and sexy one night, blissfully drunk on half a bottle of wine, but it lacked all warmth. Jaebum’s eyes had glowered at that, maybe - Jinyoung doesn’t remember. All he does is short lived satisfaction at how Jaebum only widened the growing distance between them, and then came the fight.

There was tension. All kinds of it, some Jinyoung only kept to himself. He resented himself for it, for giving into sly temptation, for fucking into his fist at thoughts of his hyung kissing him all over. He _hated_ him, hated Jaebum and his unexplained shift in behaviour so fucking much, so it didn’t take much for them to lash out at each other.

Just a few days before their debut too.

That’s the thing about heated memories though, Jinyoung only remembers the heat. The soju buzzing through his veins and scorching, blinding white heat. The burn of Jaebum’s tight grip, the fire in his hostile eyes, the furious curl of his lips. Chairs turning over, hands slamming on tabletops, Jinyoung charging forward and pressing Jaebum to a wall and -

A pause. Eyes fluttering shut in fucked up anticipation, Jaebum pliant against him, lips parted. Some serenity amidst their storm. It wouldn’t take much, really, to press his mouth against Jaebum’s. With nerves sizzling, the possibility didn’t seem so distant.

The door slammed open, the waves descended upon their shoulders again. Jaebum had pushed him away, with a kind of roughness that stings Jinyoung even now. He’d been pushed against the table, sharp corner pressing a bruise into his hip and he can feel the ghost of it now too.

But, of course, he doesn’t think about it much.

They’re older now, far more mature. Jinyoung isn’t the puppy he was at eighteen and Jaebum’s got his shit together. That’s what the media says, that’s what Yugyeom agrees to, and everything’s fine.

Really.

He holds no grudges. There’s no reason to.

He doesn’t want to make Jaebum uncomfortable now. It’s why he keeps his distance and he’s certain it’s better this way.

Yugyeom asked of it, once. A throng of fans echoed his query a few years later.

“There’s a difference between being close and deep,” he’d said to all of them. If his answer had made Jaebum recoil, Jinyoung hadn’t let himself think much of it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 Success is intoxicating.

It’s been hours of rehearsing their new choreography, clock ticking somewhere close to two in the morning. Jaebum calls for a break and Jinyoung collapses against a wall, letting his head loll back against it.

Youngjae slides a bottle of water into his palms before occupying the spot next to him. He muffles his spurt of laughter against Jinyoung’s shoulder and Jinyoung only smiles, wrapping an arm around the younger’s waist. Holding him close.

He sees a similar sort of inebriation dancing through the practice room in sweet waves. Yugyeom’s got his head in Bambam’s lap, the boys giggling about something. Mark and Jackson sit in their corner, Mark cozy in his boyfriend’s lap, wanton lips pressing against his jaw. He watches for a moment, entranced, but tears his gaze away when wandering hands crawl under Mark’s hoodie, tugging him closer.

It’s only coincidence, then, that his eyes fall onto Jaebum. There’s no alcohol between them now but neither look away.

Jinyoung’s awfully conscious of how heavy the other’s gaze is. How it’s almost ravenous, unwavering, asking for so much without any words at all. He stands by the computer, fingers on the mouse, but his attention’s on Jinyoung. Only him.

Youngjae rises to his feet then, sluggish, and wanders to Bambam’s side. He hears them murmur words to one another, sees Yugyeom’s fingers interlace with Youngjae’s, and they’re a complete unit like that.

He needs his warmth too. He _needs_ it, needs to reassurance and love and support, needs it so fucking much -

Jaebum’s by his side within seconds. Shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, thighs intimately close. A hand finds his, fingers slip between his own, and Jinyoung can’t stifle his soft noise of approval.

“We’ve come so far,” is the warmth by his ear.

“Hyung…” and he’s this person only for now. He’s vulnerable around Mark and Jackson but this person holds nothing back, putting every weakness on glaring display.

There’s all this ugly distance but they don’t need words. Jaebum sees right through him, he sees right through Jaebum, and it’s all so easy without walls of defenses.

Jaebum squeezes his hand. Jinyoung feels it then - that warmth, pooling in his gut.

“Jinyoungie, we’ve made it.”

Jinyoung lets himself melt against Jaebum. He doesn’t care about the five other people in the room, only allows Jaebum to manoeuvre him into his lap. Jaebum’s arms hold him steady but there’s slight hesitance.

There’s no room for hesitance now.

Jinyoung shifts closer. He feels Jaebum’s chest rise and fall in relief under his. Jaebum’s eyes are closed, a diffidence he’s seen a few times before and only once in an entirely different context. Mark and Jackson (MarkandJackson, JacksonandMark - they’re one fucking entity) will berate him for it later, when they’re not drunk on hope anymore, but Jinyoung realises he doesn’t really give a fuck.

“Hyung,” he murmurs, hot lips finding the slope of Jaebum’s jaw. He hears a sharp intake of breath, feels Jaebum’s arms tighten around his small waist. “Jaebummie hyung, we’ll stay with each other forever.”

God, does he feel it. Jaebum’s love isn’t a blanket, it’s a fucking viper, coiling around him and asphyxiating him and this is the best way to fall. Jaebum’s breath is heavy against his cheek, hands slipping under his threadbare shirt and gripping his hips firmly. He wants to sink into him, wants to drown until he can’t feel anything else and he knows it’s all reciprocated - for all their ups and downs, this is his constant.

“Say it again,” is a raspy whisper. It’s fucking religious.

“Forever,” Jinyoung promises. He echoes it like a mantra, presses it between hot kisses, allows his lips to travel the slope of his jaw, the line of his neck, sucking ownership just shy of Jaebum’s collarbone. “Jaebum and Jinyoung forever. We’re forever, hyung.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 They slip out of their red suits and into some casualwear but Jinyoung still feels Jaebum’s touch burning him.

He doesn’t need to check fansites to know he’d grimaced through all of it. Shock, at first, a tingling numbness making way across his body like ants and then an ugly grimace for a smile. Jaebum’s arm was around his shoulders and there was no reason to act stupid - in _public_ , of all places, with millions of hungry eyes following every movement.

Jaebum had done it though. He’d tilted his head too, just so, to whisper words Jinyoung doesn’t remember. He can’t be fucked, honestly, and he rushes to claim shotgun, ignoring the weird looks the others end up sending him.

The drive back home was uneventful. Jaebum slept through most of it and Jinyoung was too exhausted himself to be bitter about Jaebum’s cavalier attitude to all of it. Mark and Jackson, they’re in their own world, and Jinyoung knows they’ll accept him with open arms once they’re at the dorm. It’s never alienating with them.

It’s easy, then, to let his body move after theirs once they’re home. He feels fingers wrap around his wrist and it’s too persistent to be Mark’s, too rough to be Jackson’s. He turns, slightly agape, and Jaebum only manages to pull him away because he’s too shocked to resist.

The maknaes hold back, letting Jaebum pull Jinyoung into his adjoining room. He eases the screen shut, fidgets nervously by the door and Jinyoung only stares.

He has so many questions, a whole fuckton of them, but words seem out of his grasp. He feels the erratic thrum in his chest, pulse pressing against his wrist the way it does when he’s anticipating something, when he lets himself be hopeful.

It’s been seven years of tiptoeing around each other. They had their moments of recklessness, yes, but never like this.

There’s no heat now. No hope to get drunk on. It’s just them, two boys nervous in the confines of his suffocating bedroom.

“I wanna -“ Jaebum starts, but Jinyoung cuts him off.

“What the fuck is this?” he snaps but his fury is trembling. He crosses his arms defensively, nostrils flaring, heat rushing to his cheeks.

Jaebum lowers his head. He looks ashamed, as he should, as he fucking should.

“ _You_ pushed me away,” Jinyoung continues, huffing. He doesn’t know where this upsurge comes from, all clumsy and violent, pulled out from somewhere deep in his heart. His words feel black, rotten, intense. They leave a bitter aftertaste. “You did this. You…what we do when we’re feeling lonely, hyung, it’s different, alright? That’s not us. This…this isn’t us.”

“You idolised me!”

Jinyoung hadn’t expected him to yell. They haven’t done this in years, so he’s forced to take a step back. Jaebum only chases after him and he sees it now - red, ugly red, all over Jaebum’s handsome face.

It’s been seven years. They haven’t talked about this, but with everything else slotting into place, after finally reaching their dream destination, professions slip easily now.

“What -“

“I was a _kid_ , Jinyoung,” Jaebum only presses on. Jinyoung only feels the desperation in his words now, hears the crack in his anger, sees how Jaebum’s face crumbles.

This opens old wounds - wounds he’d hastily stitched into place, all by himself, struggling to hold onto weak thread. Jinyoung doesn’t need this conversation after playing it in his head for the few months after their unofficial disbandment - he’s above explanations now, for what happened in the past, it fucking _happened_. They moved past it, they’re here now, and the distance between them doesn’t matter with all these people around them.

He wants to say that. He should - this should end now before Jaebum sees him for how pathetic he truly is, even after all these years.

Jaebum’s words aren’t what he’d expected, that’s all.

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s demonised Jaebum for so long, owing all their animosity to _Jaebum’s_ faults, his confusing behaviour, as if an evil spirit consumed his best friend’s soul overnight.

Or worse - there had come a point when Jinyoung’s love was too obvious for Jaebum to ignore, so he just ignored Jinyoung instead.

“I just…I wanted to dance,” Jaebum chuckles, humorless. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, pain evident in his frown and digging into his words. “I was an angry boy with a fuck all future, and I…I hated school. I wanted to dance, so I came here. They said I should become an idol, so I did. I just wanted to be a dancer, Jinyoung, but you were there and you were my support, I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to, because of you. You…you have always been the most captivating thing in the room and I _wanted_ to listen to you, I wanted to follow you, I wanted to be everything for you -“

“Bullshit,” Jinyoung sobs, covering his mouth. He feels the tears then, but he convinces himself that they’re all angry tears. That it has nothing to do with a confession Jaebum should’ve made a long time ago.

“No,” Jaebum shakes his head vehemently and he’s crying too. He doesn’t inch forward though, he respects Jinyoung’s space. “ _No_ , okay, you’re the reason I’m here, but…Jinyoung, then it happened. It should’ve been the other way around but you…you had this look in your eyes, Jinyoung, like -“

“Like I was in love with you?” Jinyoung butts in, feels the knife in his chest twist and turn until he’s bleeding. “What if I was?”

“ _No_ ,” Jaebum exhales again, shaking his head. His hands shake too, and it must take a lot, to be this honest. “Jinyoung, no. I wasn’t worthy. You looked upto me like…like I could accomplish anything and everything, you had this crazy devotion, and…I was seventeen. I didn’t know myself but you had all this faith in me and…I let you down. I was afraid of letting you down, Jinyoungie, and I did.”

It’s all silent for a while. It’d be funny, really, if tears weren’t burning his cheeks. If their idol worship hadn’t been their undoing, if all the lost years between them didn’t stand as a hateful reminder of years’ worth of selfishness. It’s not like they haven’t done this together - accomplished so much, found themselves a family greater than they ever deserved.

There’s just this itch, that’s all, that reminds Jinyoung that they couldn’t do it by themselves, only because they had all this pride and miscommunication standing in their way.

“I’m tired, Jinyoungie,” Jaebum sighs. He collapses onto Jinyoung’s bed, shoulders drooping. “I’m so tired of missing you.”

Jinyoung stares at the man sitting on his bed, tries to see differences between him and the boy Jinyoung once loved with all his heart. There isn’t, he swallows the admittance, and he loves this Jaebum too. He always has, for Jaebum hasn’t given him reason not to. There might be resentment but there wasn’t ever hatred.

He could retaliate. He could yell at Jaebum to leave, further sever the threads holding them together. It wouldn’t be entirely unforgiving of him, even though Jaebum’s heart was in his palms, but he thinks of the boy pressed against the wall, eyes squeezed tight in feverish submission, silently begging an end to all of this.

He’s just missed Jaebum a whole lot too.

The bed dips with his weight. Jaebum opens his eyes, sees Jinyoung next to him, and Jinyoung _feels_ his gratitude. They don’t need words, do they - Jinyoung opens his palm, a silent offering, and Jaebum laces their fingers together.

“Me too,” Jinyoung admits, voice hoarse. Their pulses beat as once, and the fibres holding them together strengthen with each passing second. He feels it, feels everything so acutely now. “I’ve missed you too, hyung.”

There’s no consuming heat now. It’s all softness, the kind Jinyoung’s never felt before, a tenderness that shakes tears from him. This is what it takes then, for Jaebum to cup his cheek, for a touch he’s longed for to brush his tears away. He cries harder, lets the ache ebb way, cups Jaebum’s face in his trembling hands too.

They don’t kiss that night. It doesn’t feel right, not now, and it’s not like they haven’t promised each other forevers. The future holds so much time and opportunity for that kind of affection but now, Jinyoung just stretches his arm for the switch. He turns the lights off, pulls Jaebum to sleep next to him, one body bracketing the other, and he lets himself fall into sweet slumber.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter - jjprojectpls  
> tumblr - jjpartners


End file.
